Thief
by R8c4a3l
Summary: Harry spent the first 5 years of his life living in and out of London orphanages. But he's finally had enough and lives on the streets, as a thief. But when he stumbles into Diagon Alley at the age of 6, everything changes. He's magic, he's a thief and he's raising hell. (H/H, Follows from when he's 10 and through the books. Confident Harry.)
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER! I OWN ZIP, NADA, NOTHING. DISCLAIMER!

Prologue

'Good luck, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone. A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect anything astonishing to happen.

Harry rolled over in his blankets without waking up, one small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on. Unaware of the tragedy that had struck, unaware of the people he had saved, and unaware of the life he was going to live.

* * *

Saturday morning, streams of warm light shot through the kitchen blinds, where a disheveled Mr Vernon Dursley sat at the breakfast table, contemplating the worrying events of the day before. Surely it was all a coincidence? Harry was a common name, and he could name five different Potter's, that he had met while doing business, off the top of his head alone. Besides, he would make sure that his family would not be drawn into any of their freakishness.

Yes, he would make sure that they left him and his family well enough alone. No matter the cost. Nothing 'freaky' would ever happen under his roof. Mr Dursley made a decidedly final grunt, and spied the empty milk bottles sitting on the kitchen counter. It was usually Petunia's job, but under the circumstances he needed something normal to do, in order to set his mind at ease.

With that thought, he rose slowly from his place at the breakfast table, and collected the empty milk bottles. Feeling much better about himself he made his way to the front door, he plucked his keys from the table beside the door and happily opened the lock.

It wasn't the loud crash of broken glass that woke Petunia Dursley that frightful morning, or the whimpering of a small child, it was her husbands bellowing up the stairs that finally did it. Mrs Dursley quickly grabbed her dressing gown and rushed out of her bedroom, not bothering to check on Dudley who would most likely still be asleep. The little tyke was such a sound sleeper.

She pelted down the stairs, making a beeline for her husband who was arguing with himself in the living room.

'Vernon what is it?' she snapped, her beady eyes flicking to the living room window; as if checking the coast was clear.

Mr Dursley was a very bright shade of puce, his mustache twitching dangerously, he rose a finger shakily and pointed to a bundle of blankets he'd dropped on the sofa.

'What?' Petunia asked again.

'Take this' he grunted, thrusting a letter into her hands.

**Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley**

**I regret to inform you that Lily and James Potter were Killed last night by the dark wizard known as Voldemort. He attacked them in their home in Godrick Hollow, with only one survivor. Here, with you, is their son Harry James Potter. I ask that you take the young boy in, as you are his only living relative, doing this kind service will also give you and your family protection from any dark wizard that would harm you, your family or the boy. Protect him. I am terribly sorry for your loss. **

**Yours Sincerely **

**Albus Dumbledore. **

Petunia stood in shock, glaring down at the letter. It couldn't be true. Lily couldn't be dead. But with a sneaky glance at the tuft of jet black hair sticking out of the blankets, Petunia knew it to be true.

'Get that freak out of here' Petunia hist, pointing at the child whimpering on their sofa. 'I don't want it in my house'.

'Of course, we'll take it to an orphanage. What does that Dumble man think he's playing at! Dropping that freak child off on us. I won't stand for it.' Vernon ranted pacing his living room floor.

Petunia cast one last evil glare at her nephew and tore the letter in her hands to shreds. The Potter's were dead, including that brat of a child. She would have nothing to do with it. Lily had made her choice a long time back, this would be her punishment.

All Petunia could think as the Dursley family drove back from the first orphanage they could find was, 'Good riddance'.


	2. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

Nearly 10 years had passed since the Dursleys had dropped an unsuspecting Harry off at his very first London orphanage. Since then, everything had changed.

The sun rose early on that late July morning, bathing its warm light on a mass of bedraggled jet black hair. The hair belonged to a boy, dirty and unkempt. He was sleeping peacefully on a very worn mattress in the corner of a shabby looking room. Everything was colored in a dull brown, even the small window was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The boy himself, wore brown pants, too large brown boots and a dirty brown shirt. His black cloak was the only difference in his outfit, currently he was using it as a blanket.

The sun light slowly creeped across his room and started highlighting the young boys body, once it finally reached his head, he started to groan, rocking from side to side, trying to hide. It wasn't long before the need for food made itself aware either. The kid couldn't catch a break.

Harry pushed himself up like a lion, stretching all of his muscles after a restful sleep. Once he heard the loud crack from his lower back, he sighed and sat up straight. He tried to gather most of the hair out of his face and tie it with some string at the base of his neck. He attempted to keep his hair relatively long, in order to hide his face and the scar on his forehead.

From a very early age Harry had learnt that his unusual scar could be used to identify him easily, not something a pick pocket would ever want. So, he always left a few strands of hair out, to fall across his face.

A loud grumble from deep within him urged Harry to get out of bed, he climbed to his feet and sleepily made his way across to the small hole in the wall of his room. He first stuck his head out hesitantly, searching for anyone wandering the back alley behind his desolate building. When he saw nothing, he shimmied through the hole and climbed swiftly down the side of the building, landing on the cobbled floor with a soft thud.

Like every morning Harry quickly padded down narrow alleyways, slinking stealthily in the early morning shadows. He finally stopped at the opening to a courtyard, where a water well sat peacefully in the morning light. He took a quick glance in every direction, a few people were milling about, before he strode out purposefully and sat down on the step next to the well.

He casually dipped his hand into the water and then slapped it across his face, smiling.

'Boy!' the loud booming voice, caused him to freeze for a moment before leaning back and turning his face into the sun. 'How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my well!'

He didn't even bother to move as he answered 'Why Mr Arrow, I'm beginning to think you don't like me,' his flippant tone would be enough to annoy any man. Let alone Mr Arrow.

'If I still had my wand you'd be nothing but a smudge on the floor!' Mr Arrow bellowed menacingly, the people milling around instantly began to dissolve out of sight. 'You filthy little street rat!'

'A tad harsh,' the boy replied, still sitting in his languid position. Mr Arrow narrowed his crinkly eyes at the boy, he may be getting on in years but he wasn't as brittle as he seemed. The old man lunged at the boy, with speed you wouldn't believe, but seemingly aware of the man's idea Harry rolled out of the way and bounced up a good yard from Mr Arrow.

'I'm afraid I can't stop' he sang happily, backing away slowly, hyper aware of his surroundings. 'We can try again tomorrow!' he called to the seething old man before speeding away.

Harry sprinted down winding cobbled streets, before finally escaping into Knockturn Alley. The decrepit street was alive with activity, small stalls were set up, selling fresh bread and fruit, as well as some other unsavory items. Harry sloped in and out of the crowd heading straight towards a group of women who sat chatting happily, on the steps of a pub, called the Dementors Inn.

'Bertha, Clarice beautiful as always' Harry flashed them a lopsided grin, and took a bite of the juicy red apple in his hands. No one had noticed him pick it up from one of the stalls.

The red head winked at him 'Hey Kid. Not dead yet I see'

'Clarice, you wound me' Harry placed a hand over his heart, pouting at the woman in front of him. He had met these women when he first stumbled across Diagon Alley four years earlier, he had followed them into The Leakey Cauldron, and then through to Knockturn Alley; the rest was history.

'Leave him alone Clarice, he'll be out of our hair soon anyway' Bertha smiled at Harry.

'Got to be close to eleven soon' Clarice agreed, turning back to the small brunette beside her, continuing their conversation. Bertha beckoned Harry to sit beside him, he did so, sitting on a step just below her own.

Bertha clasped Harry's jaw in her perfectly manicured hand 'Those eyes are gonna break hearts', she traced one finger around his almond shaped eyes before releasing him. 'Don't forget us, you arrogant little tosser'

'Me? Never' Harry grinned, leaping up from his seat. He bowed low to Bertha and then to the other women 'Ladies'

Harry started walking towards the end of Knockturn Alley, finishing his apple as he went. It was a pleasant morning, things were looking his way.

A cloaked figure to his left caught Harry's attention, not that mysterious figures were rare in Knockturn Alley; that alone would be pretty common. It was the smell of chemical cleanliness permeating the air that really drew Harry's attention, when you live your life in a seedy world you know when things don't belong.

Another figure not far ahead stepped out from the entrance to Diagon Alley, blocking Harry's escape. Not good.

'Gentleman' Harry rested on the balls of his feet.

The figure to his left spoke first 'Come quietly'.

Harry smirked, he knew he was out numbered, he knew they had wands (reluctant as they were to use them on a minor). 'Don't you boys have something more important to do?' Harry drawled.

The figure in front of him grunted, as if noting the ridiculousness of this mission. Harry couldn't fault him, he was a scrawny kid, what would Auror's want with him?

'You stole from the Minister of Magic' the Auror to his left explained, taking a hesitant step forward.

'Did I?' Harry smirked. 'Doesn't sound like me. Must have been my twin.'

'My boots on your feet say differently'

Harry quickly glanced down at his too large boots, 'You have exceptionally small feet', he mused. He could practically hear the Auror to his left growl at the statement. Harry began backing up to the building on his right, keeping a wary eye on the two Auror's following his movements.

'Come quietly, the Ministers approved the use of wands', the Auror to his left sneered. Harry's heart beat escalated ten fold at the statement, he faked to the left and then lunged forwards when two spells went shooting over his head. He shot between the Auror's and sprinted to the mouth of his escape, desperate to get to the loud noises and busy crowds of Diagon Alley.

Harry peered quickly over his shoulder, and ducked low when he saw another few spells fly towards him. He was just about to escape into the early morning crowds, when his whole body froze simultaneously, causing him to fall like a statue onto the street floor. He urged his body to move but he felt completely numb, like a mind trapped in a heap of rock.

'Stupid kid' he heard someone say from just above him. 'Turn him over Savage'

The Auror named Savage heaved the boy over until he lay in an awkward position on his back, staring daggers at the two men who would dare detain him. At first Harry thought the two men were just gloating over their capture ,and that's why they made no movement. But he soon realized that they weren't just staring at him, they were fixated specifically on his forehead.

He watched frozen as they looked at each other and then back at his forehead. 'It's Potter' he heard them whisper reverently, looking excitedly at one another. Harry let confusion shine through his emerald eyes, he wasn't Potter, that kid lived with his relatives or something; or so he'd heard.

'Grab him, we'll take him to Robarbs' the two men knelt down besides Harry, grabbing a hold of his frozen arms. The next thing he knew everything went black; he was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breath, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull. Then it stopped.

Harry was lying flat on his back in a very well lit room. His body still frozen, which at the moment he was very thankful for, if he could move he was sure he'd throw up that damn apple.

'What's the meaning of this Savage, Williamson?' Harry heard a deep voice yell in surprise.

'Its him Sir, it's Potter! We found him' Savage explained, somewhere not far from Harry. What did they mean they'd '_found_' him, Potter was with his relatives everyone knew that. How could they possibly lose someone that important?

For a moment nobody said anything, and then there was a flurry of movement around Harry. 'Alright, call the Minister and Dumbledore, get Potter into one of the holding rooms, don't let him go. MOVE' Robarbs ordered, obviously the one in charge.

Harry felt his stomach drop, he was being held by the head Auror, holy crap he was in trouble. There must be some mistake, he was Harry, just Harry. He felt himself being levitated into a smaller room and placed standing in the far corner.

'Okay' Harry heard a female voice say from beside him. 'Were going to let you go, don't run or we'll put you back under' the voice warned. Slowly his body started to return, the tips of his fingers and toes were released first. When he finally felt his midsection released Harry fell forwards onto the table in front of him, breathing heavily.

'It's okay, its normal to feel a little off, you've been under for a while' the woman's voice explained again, a gentle hand placed on his lower back. The simple touch brought Harry back to reality, he was in trouble, he was trapped and they all thought he was someone he wasn't. This could be fun.


	3. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

Harry was seated at the wooden table, in the small room, where he was being held. He lounged back in his chair whilst drumming his fingers against the table rhythmically. Two Auror's stood unmoving against the wall in front of him, their eyes unwavering in their scrutiny of the boy.

They hadn't said a word to him since they were ordered to stand guard, despite Harry's attempts at conversation.

'Come on, your name has to be Millicent,' Harry addressed the taller of the two Auror's, he was a sturdy looking fellow, big beefy arms and a rather small head. 'No? Melinda? Molly? Mary? Maggie? I _know_ its starts with an M' Harry said vehemently, smirking as he saw the Auror's partner swallow a smile.

They lapsed into silence again when Harry saw the beefy guy inching towards his wand. Someone didn't have a sense of humor. It wasn't too long after that when an even louder raucous then before, could be heard from outside of Harry's holding room.

The heavy door swung open with a loud thud, in stepped three men. The first was a portly little man with an odd dress sense, Harry recognized him as the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. The second, a stern looking man with a perpetual scowl, and finally an old thin man, with silver hair and a long beard tucked into his belt. They didn't make the most terrifying disciplinarians, but they still managed to make Harry sit up straighter.

'Its him' Minister Fudge smiled excitedly, watching him with a child's expression.

'Can you be sure?' The second man asked, 'Dumbledore?'

Harry watched the old man warily, the half moon spectacles he seemed to hide behind made him look kindly. But Harry wouldn't be fooled, he could sense an aura of power rolling off of him like a burning heat, it was obvious despite the man's serene demeanor.

'Harry Potter' Dumbledore said in a rather pleasant voice. 'We meet again'.

'Funny, I don't remember you' Harry said with a lot more confidence then he actually felt. He watched as the old mans eyes flashed dangerously before returning to there normal twinkle.

'You look terribly like your Father, Harry' Dumbledore continued. 'Except your eyes, you have your mother's eyes'

Harry felt a cold fury envelope him at the mention of the parents he never knew. How dare this stranger mention them, how dare he try and gain his trust with their memory!

'Yes, I knew your parents. They'd be very upset with you-'

'-So?' Harry interrupted, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

'So, you running away from your family would have upset them' Dumbledore remarked kindly, as if speaking down to a toddler.

'I didn't runaway from anyone. I've never had a _family_' he sneered the last word with so much venom, he was surprised he hadn't hissed it. Minister Fudge actually jumped back with shock, whilst the stern man simply looked smug. Harry tried to reel in his anger, swallowing it down. 'I'm not this Potter'

'Yes you are.' The stern man spoke for the first time. 'I'm Head Auror Robarbs, I worked with your father' Unlike Dumbledore, Robarbs simply stated fact, nothing else. 'You're a bright kid, I'm going to show you some pictures, if you think there's no resemblance you can go' Harry noticed the sharp looks the head Auror received from both Dumbledore and Fudge, but Harry nodded anyway.

'What's the catch?' Harry asked with hesitating.

'If you see a resemblance, we get to clarify who you are with a Healer. Then we'll continue from there, agreed?' Auror Robarbs didn't seem like someone to make deals often, but Harry didn't want to come across as helpless.

'I have a few demands before we begin. You don't agree to them, and I'll make this very...hard' Harry sat back in his chair, keeping eye contact with the Auror. When Robarbs finally nodded, Harry internally let the knot growing in his stomach go.

'Number 1, nothing happens to me without being fully explained. Number 2, Nothing happens to me unless I agree to it. Number 3, You explain who each of you are. Number 4, Millicent has to go get me a drink. Number 5, I have the right to make new demands whenever I want. Take it or leave it.' Harry rocked back in his chair jovially, if they thought he was Harry freaking Potter, he was going to milk it.

'Millicent?' Robarbs asked, slight amusement shown on his face. Harry simply nodded to the beefy man behind the Head Auror and smirked. 'You mean Maurice?'

Harry's face lit up ecstatically, 'What did I say? I _said_ it started with an M', his full attention on the angry looking Auror behind Robarbs.

The head Auror nodded imperceptibly at Maurice ordering him to do as the boy said. Just as he was about to leave Harry added 'Butterbeer if you could, Millicent'. Maurice didn't even bother to turn around, but he slammed the door pretty hard.

Without waiting for anyone's approval Robarbs conjured a large file, lay it down on Harry's table, and flipped open the cover. He swept two pictures out onto the table, one of a young man and the other of a young woman. Robarbs pointed a long bony finger at the picture of the man 'This is James Harold Potter', he then pointed to the woman 'This is Lily Evans Potter, your Mother' he pointed back to the man 'Your Father'. Robarbs then stood back from the table, to allow Harry a better look.

Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the similar facial structure of the man. Begrudgingly Harry agreed that they did look somewhat the same. They shared the same handsome face, the same wild hair (although the man's was less crazy then Harry's) and surprisingly the same cocky smile. Harry felt like it had been hours before he managed to tear his eyes away from the man in the picture.

He turned his focus to the woman, and what he saw made his heart stop. It was the eyes, above anything else it was the eyes, the exact copy of his own. Deep almond eyes, shining with the darkest emerald colour he had ever seen; other then his own. The woman was beautiful, she looked kind, if that were even possible. Harry could see it in the gentleness of her smile and the delicate slope of her nose. She had lush thick waves of auburn hair that perfectly framed her face. Harry thought she looked like an angel.

'So?' Robarbs said, breaking the spell. Harry looked up at the man, silently startled from his deep musings. He could see Fudge and Dumbledore with similar expressions of self satisfied smugness. It made Harry's skin crawl. Only Robarbs seemed to have his features schooled to a complacent understanding of Harry's situation.

'The look like me' Harry conceded, trying to swallow the insults he was ready to hurl at the too idiots beside the Auror.

'Okay, I'm going to call in a Healer. She is going to prick your finger and test your blood. She's going to put it in a potion, if it turns gold your Harry Potter, if it remains purple we made a mistake. Understand?' Robarbs precise explanation was followed by a knock at the holding room's door.

A second later a woman in all white stepped into the room, she was carrying a potion in one hand and a needle in the other. Harry sat up straighter in the presence of the healer, he even moved the pictures aside to make room for her things on the table.

The Healer woman had her hair tied back into a tight bun, she looked like she was in her late 40's. As she approached Harry she tried giving him a reassuring smile, which only seemed to highlight his nerves more. What if he was this Potter person? What would that mean? What would happen to him? If he wasn't Potter would they let him go? Harry knew too much, didn't he?

The Healer placed the beaker of potion on the table in front of Harry, it frothed violet bubbles every so often and made a gloopy noise as well. Harry turned to face the Healer who was crouched down next to him. He placed his dirty finger in her clean outstretched hand, and refused the instinct to pull away at the sight of the object piercing his skin. 'Worst bits over' she whispered.

The Healer kept a firm hold of Harry's finger and held it steadily over the purple potion. Three drops of blood fell with quiet drips into the violet mass, hissing each time they met. Almost immediately the potion began to change, first from Purple to a bright white, then silver and finally to a brilliant gold. Holy crap, Harry felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders at the sight of the glorious golden color emanating from the beaker. He was Harry Potter.

'Congratulations Harry, you're a Potter' the Healer smiled at him. He fell back into his chair, he didn't notice when the woman left, or when Fudge started giving orders for a small celebration. All Harry could see was the smiling faces of the two pictures on the table. His parents. He had parents. They were dead. The thought felt like someone had punched him in the gut, like someone had stolen all the air from his lungs. He had parents, but he didn't. They were dead.

What brought him back to reality was the sharp noise of glass landing on wood. There was a butterbeer sitting on the table,'Thanks Millicent', Harry murmured and reached for the glass, taking a large swig. 'What now?' he asked.

'Now you must return to your Aunt and Uncle's until you start school in September.' Dumbledore answered him, looking all the part of the grandfatherly protector.

'What? You find out I'm Harry Potter and then ship me off to people I've never met?' Harry asked sharply, blanching at the absurd idea.

'They are your family Harry, they can protect-'

'-You said I was with them before? Why have I spent all my life in orphanages or on the streets if they wanted me so badly?' Harry fumed, he liked his life, he liked his freedom. This Dumbledore would not take that away from him.

'They must have lost you'

'And then made no effort to find me' Harry concluded. 'Why have I been _lost _for so long? I'm the boy-who-lived shouldn't I be pretty well looked after?'

'That is my fault, I assumed you were being taken care of, I went to check on you when you were 6 but you were not at the residence' Dumbledore said gravely, bowing his head as if in shame.

'And yet you still want to send me back?'

'They can offer would protection others can't' Dumbledore tried to explain. 'When your parents died for you, it gave you a rare kind of protection from the evil in our world. It can only be renewed when with your family.'

Harry snorted and the old mans explanation, 'I've done pretty well without it'.

'Honestly Dumbledore if he doesn't want to go, we won't force him' Minister Fudge smiled happily, 'There will be plenty people willing to take the boy in. Taking charge of Harry Potter would be a great honor'

'He must go to his Aunt and Uncle's', Dumbledore said firmly, glowering at Minister Fudge.

'No he must not' Harry all but shouted.

'You're nearly eleven Harry, something must be done' Robarbs interceded.

'When?' Harry asked hesitantly.

'When what?' the Auror asked confused.

'When do I turn eleven?' Harry felt very embarrassed by the question, his whole life he had never known his own birthday. Robarbs looked at the boy with a new found light, James and Lily would be rolling in their graves. How could Dumbledore have overlooked the care of this boy so much? Waiting six years to check on him.

'Your birthday is July 31st 1980, you were born in St Mungo's maternity wing at 10:15am'

'What else?' The words tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could properly filter them.

Robarbs was surprised by the question, 'Um, your vault in Gringotts will know more, I'll take you there when the Minister is finished with you', the offer of kindness was not missed with Harry, he was starting to warm to the Auror.

'Yes, yes, you must be taken to the Goblins! You have so much to learn..." The minister began to babble. Harry slowly tuned him out. He had parents. He had a birthday. He had a vault at fricking Gringotts! Suddenly, being Harry Potter didn't seem so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

Harry was still sitting at the small wooden table over an hour later. Nothing could be decided upon. Dumbledore was adamant about sending Harry back to his aunt and uncles, Harry point blank refused. Fudge wanted to have a wizarding family take him, he was less objective but still didn't like the idea. Robarbs was very quiet on the subject, he had acted like Harry's mediator early on, but soon stopped when he found out the boy was quite able at saying 'no'.

'He must go to his aunts', Dumbledore repeated for the umpteenth time. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the statement, it was like he wasn't even in the room.

'The boy doesn't want to go! We can't force him', Fudge argued on Harry's behalf.

'It's for the his own protection,'

'He's not a baby anymore, you can't just decide for him,' Fudge blustered growing more and more dithering as the arguing continued. Harry was quite enjoying the show, but why where they arguing anyway? Surely as the Minister of magic, Fudge had the final say?

'As his magical guardian I can in fact decide for him,'

'What makes you that?' Robarbs spoke for the first time in what seemed like forever. Harry had to agree with that question, what on earth gave this stranger that right?

'As the headmaster of his school, I represent the magical guardianship of all orphaned and muggle born children that attend,' Harry didn't like the glint in the old mans eyes when he said that. But at least he knew who the man was now, a teacher; which made his presence at this meeting even more confusing.

Robarbs didn't seem as worried by that as Harry though. 'That may be true while they attend your school, but as you can see, he's not there yet.' Harry didn't like the sound of that 'yet'.

'Didn't my parents have friends that I could go to?' Harry asked, he didn't really like Fudge's proposal, but it was better than Dumbledore's. All attention finally returned to Harry, it had been a while since anyone had bothered noticing his presence (other than to gesture in his general direction).

Minister Fudge looked slightly startled at the abrupt question, but his eyes softened when he glanced at the two pictures still sitting on the table. 'Yes, they had many many friends. Your father was quite the popular man you see, and your mother was the sweetest woman you'd ever meet.' He smiled happily at the boy. 'There are many people who would gladly take in the-boy-who-lived'.

Noting Harry's uncomfortableness Robarbs decided to step in.'We can discuss this later, I've made an appointment with Gringotts for after lunch, for now let the boy eat, he's far too scrawny', Harry felt like he could kiss the Auror. All the arguing had gotten extremely boring a very long while back, and the pitying looks from Fudge were all but torture.

'Of course, of course, my dear boy you must be starving!' The minister exclaimed, 'Can't have you attending Hogwarts as skinny as a toothpick, come along Dumbledore we can discuss the issue further, in my office'. Fudge and Dumbledore quickly shuffled out of the room casting one last glance at Harry before disappearing from sight.

'Thank Merlin' Harry groaned, banging his head against the table. How he wished he was back in his shabby little room, curled up under his cloak, this Harry Potter stuff had gotten old fast.

'You'll get used to that,' Harry could practically hear the smirk in the Auror's voice. Harry casually rose one hand and flipped the amused man off. Robarbs snorted, 'Your dad would be proud'.

Internally Harry fought gallantly against his mouth, but in the end he just couldn't hold it in any longer. 'You knew him?' His eyes locked with the mans.

'Yeah', Robarbs hesitated as if weighing weather he should continue or not. 'I trained him, along with some other recruits. He was a good man.' The answer was a bit gruff, but it would do for now. 'Maurice grab some food for Potter. I'll meet you back in here, in half an hour to take him to Gringotts.' Maurice left almost immediantly, not giving Harry a chance to place an order.

Just as Robarb's was about to depart Harry spoke up, 'Who is Dumbledore?' The Auror's hand clenched around the room's doorknob, his knuckles turning white.

Without turning around he answered, as if reading from a book. 'Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardy, he is a noted alchemist and helped discover the twelve uses of dragons blood. He is the chief warlock of the Wizengmont and Supreme Mugwump of the International confederation of wizards. He holds the Order of Merlin, First Class, for grand Sorcery.' At the end of his speech, Robarbs sweeped out of the door letting it crash closed.

Harry returned to his relaxed position in his chair, 'Well that went well' he mused out loud, completely ignoring the singular Auror standing in the corner; standing guard. So this Dumbledore was powerful. No wonder he was at the meeting, he was obviously held in high regard amongst the wizarding community. Auror Robarbs didn't seem to like him, and that was putting it lightly. There was just something off about the old man.

Maurice soon returned with food for Harry, roughly thrusting the plate towards him when Harry greeted him as Millicent. The food on the table was gone in minutes, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten so well. Hot food, different flavours, he was in heaven. Harry scoffed it down without really noting what the meal was, all he cared about was the bloated feeling filling him up. Exactly half an hour later Auror Robarbs returned to the room.

'Potter, you hold my arm. You do not let go'

Harry instincts flared up at the abrupt entrance, what crawled up his arse and died? 'Sure, i'll get right on that', Harry rose an eyebrow in response to the man's orders.

'We're going to Gringotts, you have an appointment.'

Harry stood up, pretending to flick off a piece of dirt from his clothes.'Well, why didn't you say?'

'Move it Potter.' Robarbs grabbed Harry by the shoulder and held him in place beside him.

He tried to knock the man's grip off of his shoulder, 'Touchy touchy'. Again Harry felt the odd feeling of being squeezed through an incredibly thin tube, why did people travel this way? Once they arrived, he could feel the nausea creeping up on him again. 'Ugh, warn a guy next time you do that,' he groaned, lifting his hand to his head.

Once Harry's head cleared he peered up, noticing the familiar sight of the imposing building in front of him. The snow-white, multi story structure was none other then Gringotts the wizarding bank. This wasn't the first time he had been standing on its front steps, although it would be the first time he had ever contemplated entering it.

Auror Robarbs led their way to a set of burnished bronze doors, flanked by two Goblins in uniforms of scarlet and gold. Harry had never actually spoken to a Goblin, his exploits usually kept him away from the 'upper' end of Diagon Alley.

Once Harry passed the serious looking goblins, they stepped into a small hallway where a pair of silver doors adorned the far wall. Words were etched into the design.

Enter, stranger, but take heed,  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly, in their turn,  
So if you seek beneath our floors,  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware,  
Of finding more then treasure there.

Harry re-read the poem twice before crossing the threshold into the bank. 'Has anyone tried?'

Robarbs smiled slightly before answering,'You'd be mad to rob Gringotts'

'Thats not what I asked'


	5. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

A pair of Goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Robarbs and Harry made for the counter.

The goblin they approached had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and Harry noticed, very long pointed fingers. 'Afternoon,' said Robarbs to the free goblin. 'We have a meeting'

The goblins eyes darted from the Auror to Harry, heavily scrutinizing every inch of the boys scruffy appearance. 'Name?'

'Potter', the expression on the goblins face transformed into something close to sinister excitement.

'Mr Potter, we've been expecting you.' His fingers curling over the edge of the counter, 'I'll have someone take you to one of our private rooms. Griphook!'

Griphook was yet another goblin, silver hair, yellow eyes and a crooked hooked nose. Robarbs and Harry followed the goblin towards one of the doors leading off the main hall.

'Whats this meeting about?' Harry asked, trying to ignore the snotty looks he was receiving. If these strangers knew who he was they wouldn't dare look at him with such blatant disgust, just because of the rags he wore.

'Your future. Your parents. Your inheritance. Take your pick.' the Auror responded, not really paying attention to anything but the goblin leading their way.

'So, on a scale of one to ten. How important?'

Robarbs flashed him a sideways glance 'Eleven'.

Griphook led them into a long marble corridor, lined with doors. The goblin kept at fast pace, acting as if he was on a fast stroll rather then doing his job, abruptly he came to a stop. 'Enter and take a seat,' Griphook said, gesturing to the ominous looking black door he stood beside. A sign on the front said it was meeting room 16, and it had a strange coat of arms etched into the silver door handle.

Robarbs didn't wait for further instructions, so Harry was forced to follow after him. Before the door closed behind him, Harry turned to ask Griphook a question but was startled when we was met with nothing but an empty hallway.

'Mr Potter?' a slick voice spoke from behind him. Harry turned around to see another goblin, seated at a rather large ornate desk. 'Please, take a seat', the goblin pointed to one of the too extravagant plush chairs placed before his desk.

'You can't run away from this,' Robarbs murmured, thinking that the boy was attempting to make a run for it. How little the man could read him, when your offered the world you don't turn it down. Harry was going to grab this opportunity with both hands and fly; he was Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived.

'Wouldn't dream of it,' he replied smoothly, making a big show of seating himself in one of the comfy looking seats.

The goblin watched Harry over the top of his small circular spectacles for a long moment before nodding and clasping his hands together under his chin. 'I am Master Teller Ragnok, responsible for the the vaults of the ancient and noble house of Potter, what can I help you with?'

Auror Robarbs sat up slightly taller, 'Right, well we're here for a will reading, and general knowledge of young Mr Potter's inheritance.'

'As the Head Auror is present, I am to assume he is allowed to hear this information as well?' Master Ragnok said, addressing Harry. The boy simply nodded, he had no experience with this kind of thing and would probably need advice at some point.

'Then let us begin'. The goblin started shuffling items around on his desk, before his long spindly fingers fell upon a rather thick bound parchment. He undid the red and gold silken ribbon, and rolled out the thick document. 'This is the last will and testament of the late Mr and Mrs Potter, please, if you have any questions wait until the end.'

Ragnok waited for both Harry and Robarbs to nod before reading aloud. 'We, James and Lily Potter, being of sound mind and body, make this our last will and testament. To our beloved son, Harry James Potter, we leave the entirety of the Potter fortune, upon his inheritance at the age of 17. Until then, a trust fund will been set aside, that will support Harry through his schooling at Hogwarts. If we die, or for some unforeseen reason cannot care for Harry, we leave custody to his Godfather Sirius Orion Black, failing this he shall go to his Godmother Alice Longbottom. We wish for him to be raised amongst our magical family. To Sirius Orion Black, a brother, we leave full custody of our son, and the Lake house in Italy. To Remus Lupin, a brother, we leave 50,000 galeons to be paid in full, upon our deaths. To Peter Pettegrew, a brother, we leave our shares in Zonko's joke shop, and the cottage in Godricks Hollow. Concerning Lily Potter's muggle relatives, we leave nothing, as they gave us nothing but hatred. Finally, to our son, we leave a letter, kept safe by Master Teller Ragnok. We hope it explains why we're gone.'

Master Ragnok began to roll the parchment back up and collect the red ribbon that had fallen his desk. 'Now, before I retrieve your letter. I will briefly explain the inheritance you are set receive. The Potter wealth has been accumulated throughout the centuries, it spreads across jewels, money, ancient artifacts, properties, land, and shares in companies. The money set away in your trust fund is 500,000 galeons, enough to see you through your seven years.' The Goblin paused slightly to allow this to settle in, Harry was in shock.

'You are set to inherit the Potter Manor, which has housed over 15 generations of Potter's. You will have shares in many companies in England and across the globe. You will own the ski lodge in Austria, the apartment in Hogsmeade and the villa in the French riviera. Upon the day you turn 17 you will hold a seat in the Wizagamont and your accumulated net worth will be 30,000,000 galeons. Congratulations Mr Potter, you are set to become the wealthiest wizard in the United Kingdom.' he said with a rather smarmy grin.

It was a good few minutes before the synapses in Harry's brain started working again and even then he only managed to choke out a simple statement. 'All this time, I've been rich?'

'That is a rather unusual scar, did you not suspect?' The goblin intoned in a condescending way, as if it had happened to _him_ he would have sort out his riches straight away.

'Forgive me, If I thought the-boy-who-live wouldn't get _lost_ and forced to live on the streets' Harry almost spat, recalling the explanation Dumbledore gave for his abandonment. 'Who is this Sirius Black?'

The room suddenly plunged into deathly silence, the tension growing by the second. 'He is a traitor.' Robarbs mumbled, sadness clearly lining his voice. 'He sold your parents to Voldemort. He's the reason they're dead.' The Auror's words sounded hollow, but growing anger started to burn inside Harry. Fury at the monster who stole away his life, his parents, at the chance of being loved, boiled inside him.

'Where is he now?' Harry seethed.

'He's serving life in Azkaban. No trial. No appeal.' Robarbs intoned, his eyes downcast. Harry couldn't read the man's face, he just assumed he was saddened by the memory of the Potter's death. 'Master Ragnok, the letter?'

Ragnok immediately withdrew a blue envelope from his stack of papers, and leaned forwards to pass it to Harry. The enveloped felt weighted in his hands, his fingers traced the elegant silver script, which he could just make out as his name '_Harry James Potter_'. Having spent most of his life on the streets rather than school, his reading skills weren't the best. But that wouldn't stop him from trying.

Harry flipped over the letter and started to peel of the silver wax, he felt a stabbing pain in his thumb and let the letter fall to his lap. He eyed the tiny jewel of blood running down his thumb with confusion, was it a paper cut?

He looked down at the letter in his lap questioningly, it had started to heat up, almost like it was burning. Suddenly it flew up to eye level and folded out, to reveal the neat writing within.

Hovering there, at eye level it suddenly began to speak. Harry had never heard anything more beautiful in his life.

_Dear, my beloved son, Harry_

_If you are reading this letter, the worst has happened. We have been betrayed. Peter Pettegrew will have told Voldemort of our whereabouts. Your Father said it was for the best when we made him our secret keeper, but I have always feared his resolve. Sirius will be taking care of you, if he has not died as well (for that would be the only cause that could keep him from you). We love you Harry. You are our light in this dreary darkness, you are our hope that this war will end, and we fight for you. In the hope that you won't have to._

_Today is your first birthday, you are sleeping in my arms as I write this letter. You've had a big day, even though we are in hiding, your father, uncle Sirius and Remus have made it a wonderful day. From the moment you woke, to the second you fell asleep, a smile has been on your face, and laughter has been heard throughout this home. Your father and Sirius bought you training broom, my heart stopped watching you fly. You have a talent, you're defiantly James's son, he's already talking about you being on the team at Hogwarts. I'm so proud of you. _

_I hoped this letter would never have to come to you, that I could rip it to shreds when the war was over. I wanted to make so many more memories with you. We had planned to return to the Potter Manor, and I hope one day you will. Sirius, if you're listening, take care of my son. Love him as your own, although I know you already do. Protect him Sirius, protect my Remus we love him.  
_

_Remember Harry, Mama loves you, Dada loves you.  
Be brave, be fearless, be strong. _

_All my love, Lily Potter, your mother, for always. _

The letter slowly folded in on itself, retreating into its envelope, and laying peacefully onto Harry's lap. Tears tracked down his face, leaving scars of salt water across his cheeks. That was his mothers voice, he was sure of it. He was certain. The foreign voice had sounded so familiar, it awakened in his heart like a memory.

'We have to send word to Azkaban' Robarbs exclaimed in a fiery whisper.

'What?' Harry asked angrily, unhappy the man had broken his moment.

'Sirius is innocent!'


	6. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

Harry was seated, squashed, next to a stout looking woman and an old man that smelt faintly like alcohol. There had to be over two hundred people squeezed into the court dungeon, fifty of which were members of the Wizengamot; a place in which Harry would hold when he turned 17.

Auror Robarbs had told him to stay seated, and to not move. Harry felt he had done pretty well with this order, but enough was enough. Besides it wasn't really an order, more a friendly suggestion. At least, that's what Harry told himself as he clambered down to the first row barrier, wedging himself into the tiny space in the front row.

The court room looked enormous, the walls were made of ancient black marble stone, and bright torches lit the room brilliantly. Around Harry the crowd was a buzz with thick layers of tension and excitement, they all seemed oblivious to the dark figures hovering ten feet above their heads. Cloaked creatures, that swarmed above them in a great heaving mass, attempting every other minute to batter through the pulsing light that held them at bay. The sight of them turned Harry's stomach, these were Dementors, they guarded Azkaban. The letter from Harry's mother had stated Sirius Black's innocents, it had been Peter Pettegrew that had betrayed them, not his Godfather. Harry felt oddly guilty at questioning the strangers loyalty. The feeling only grew with each split second glance at monsters hung above him.

Robarbs had forced Harry from the meeting room at Gringotts, yanking him out into the sunny afternoon in Diagon Alley. They had side-along apparated to the Department of Magical law enforcement, and 5 hours later Harry was now waiting, on edge, for Sirius Black to enter the court. His godfather, his family?

Harry had woken this morning with nothing to worry about, in the course of one day, he had discovered his name, his birthday, his parents, his wealth, and now, he was in the high court of law setting an innocent man free. It had been an odd day.

The court room was loud with the rumble of confused voices, none of them understanding the cause for this sudden change of events. Why, after ten years, was this murderer finally getting a trial? Why was Minister Fudge absent from the proceedings? Where was Dumbledore?

Harry watched with bated breath as a man in an imperial black robe, rose one hand to the crowd, to which a sudden hush rushed around the court room; the once deafening confusion turning to jarring silence.

'Bring in the prisoner,' The man in black said, his voice echoing around the room. Harry craned his neck in order to catch the first glimpses of Sirius Black entering the hall.

Three Auror's entered through a singular wooden door, to the far right of where Harry was wedged. Following behind them was a tall man, with a sunken face, waxy skin, and long matted hair; much like Harry's, although darker. The man's hands and feet were shackled, so he shuffled forward at a slow pace, his face upturned to the waiting crowd.

Sirius looked confused and astonished, searching blindly for a familiar face amongst the sea of strangers. He was led to a small wooden stool in the center of the room, the three Auror's remained by his side throughout his small journey, and then dispersed when the prisoner was seated.

A square jawed witch stood from her seat behind a large podium, her close cropped grey hair hung forwards slightly as she peered down at the man before her. 'Sirius Orion Black, ten years ago you were convicted of betraying James, Lily and Harry Potter to Voldemort', the woman paused, 'Today, in the light of new evidence, you are to be questioned under veritaserum, should you be found guilty, you will return to Azkaban for the remainder of your life'.

A hunched back man swept forwards, his robes moth eaten and weathered. In one hand he held a small glass vile, and with the other his wand, trained on the prisoner. Sirius did not squirm under the obvious threat, Harry could clearly see the grim determination bathing him in a second skin. Harry knew that feeling, the promise of freedom could be more all encompassing then all the riches in the world.

The humped man guided Sirius's chin up with his wand and then tipped the vial of potion into his waiting mouth, the prisoner swallowed it greedily.

The serious looking woman waited a few moments before asking her first question. 'Are you Sirius Orion Black?'

'Yes', Harry swallowed nervously at the sound of the croaky voice of his godfather. But the man himself looked nothing but content, his back straight and proud.

'Were you born on the 19th of October 1959?'

'Yes' Sirius's voice rang out clear, slicing the tension in the room like cheese wire.

'Did the Potter's name you there secret keeper?' Harry could feel the entire room contract , as if all the air had been taken from it. His own heart was hammering with an unknown speed, the Dementors above were mercilessly throwing themselves at their barrier, desperate to get to Sirius. They were the foulest creatures Harry had ever seen, but his eyes stayed pierced on the man in front. Waiting.

'No.' The room collapsed into a chaos of voices. Harry was one of the few people who remained silent, staring at the back of Sirius's head, smirking at the man's simple response. One word, one word and he had ripped to shreds everything that this crowd had ever believed.

It took a full ten minutes before the stern looking woman could get the court room back under control, forcing the room back into a hesitant silence. 'Who was the Potter's secret keeper?', she said, addressing Sirius, her voice urgent.

'Peter Pettigrew'

'Is that why you killed him, and the twelve muggles?' The crowd seemed to murmur in agreement of her question. It was the only possible explanation.

'Peter isn't dead, and I didn't kill anyone,' There was a deadly bite to Sirius's tone as he spoke those words, and yet there was a sense of relief there as well; for finally being able to say that sentence, and have people truly believe him.

'Then what happened, when you confronted him?'

'I hunted him into a busy muggle neighborhood, I had him cornered. That's when he started spouting that I was the one who betrayed James and Lily. Before I knew what had happened, I was under rubble. He had blown up the street. I saw him chop off his finger and then transform into a rat.'

'A rat?'

'Peter is an unregistered animagous'. The smugness emanating from the filthy man could have lit a fire. Peter was going to die, by Sirius's hands or someone elses, but he was going to die.

'You mean to tell me that Peter Pettegrew is not only alive, but has most likely been hiding in his animagous form for the past ten years?'

'Got it in one' his words sounded empty, the pain too potent to let it free.

The stern woman turned around to address her peers, her grey eyes sweeping across each face before speaking in a loud solemn voice. 'Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot we have been called here today, to judge the trial of Sirius Orion Black, believed dark wizard and murderer. Under the light of Mr Black's oath, under veritasirum, all those in favor of sending Sirius Black back to Azkaban, raise your hand.'

To Harry's great pleasure, not one hand was raised. 'All those opposed?' The loud shuffling of robes signaled the freedom of Sirius Black, as every hand rose ceremoniously into the air.

'Sirius Orion Black, you are acquitted of all charges against you, your fortune, estates and inheritance shall be returned, along with a generous amount of gold from the ministry, in apology for the unlawful imprisonment of an innocent man. Lord Sirius Black, you are a free man'

As if on que, the members of the wizengamot started to file out of there seats and through a small side door, the one Sirius Black had first entered through. Harry watched, confused, as they disapeared from sight. He turned his head back to Sirius, and saw two Auror's unshackling the bedraggled man.

As the two Auror's began leading Sirius away, a heavy hand clapped down on Harry's shoulder. Had it not been for the almost painful grip holding him in place, he would have bolted.

'Boy? What were my last words to you?', Harry smirked at the voice, his initial instincts squashed like a bug. He wiggled his body around to face the Head Auror.

'To stay put and not move.' Robarb's rose one eyebrow at the scruffy boy, clearly not amused. 'What can I say? I'm a rebel.'

Harry could have sworn he saw the elder man's lip twitch imperceptibly, but he couldn't be sure. 'Come on kid, lets go meet your Godfather.'


	7. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING! DISCLAIMER!

Harry could pinpoint the exact moment when his nervousness started to pulsate around his body. He had been walking beside Auror Robarbs, staying close, as not to lose him in the busy hallway. Following the Wizengamot's example the crowd of spectators had slowly started to disperse from the court room, and wait impatiently for an elevator. Which meant that the duo's progress had been very slow moving.

It was that exact slow pace that had allowed the worries to seep into to Harry's head. What would Sirius be like? Would he take Harry in? Or simply refuse? Would Harry go back on the streets? Would he be sent to his muggle relatives? What if his Godfather didn't like him? The questions swirled around his head in a jumbled mass, by the time Robarbs pulled sharply on Harry's dirty clothes, to get his attention, he was feeling quite sick.

Unlike the rest of the crowd, the duo did not walk towards the elevator, they took a sharp turn left and walked down a rather narrow hallway. It had a solid black door waiting for them at the end.

They were standing right in front of the door before Robarbs finally spoke again. 'He's waiting for you inside.' The older man gestured at the door handle. Harry could see his threadbare appearance clearly in the simple silver door knob. His reflection only adding to his nerves.

Harry wouldn't be afraid. His mothers words were echoing in his head _'Be brave, be fearless, be strong.' _Harry swallowed loudly and turned the door knob. This was it. _  
_

Harry pushed the door with a little more effort then needed. It swung open quick and smooth, ready to reveal its precious cargo. The room was lighter then he had expected, many torches lit the walls, the soft white stone walls illuminated by the firelight. His eyes fell almost immediately on the dirty looking man, sitting on a comfy suede sofa.

'Harry?' His name sounded so strange on the strangers lips. The boy locked eyes with the man in front of him, as he walked into the room, letting the door bang shut behind him. Sirius's eyes looked so grey, so hollow, it made Harry sad. 'Is that really you?' he repeated.

'I'm Harry James Potter' he heard his voice say, unsure of what to do. So he stood, rooted to the spot, his fingers tapping against his leg; desperate for something to do.

'Do you know who I am?'

Harry nodded, 'You're my Godfather.'

'Yeah, I am' Sirius smiled slightly at the acknowledgement. Harry guessed it must have been the first smile he had had in a very long time. 'How long have you known?'

Harry found this a very odd question, but answered anyway. 'Since today.'

Sirius nodded glumly, as if in understanding. 'Yeah, I'm sure Alice had her reasons'

'Alice?' Harry questioned.

'Your Godmother, you've been living with her haven't you?' Sirius's eyes took on a kind of hardness that Harry had never seen before.

'I grew up in the muggle world...in orphanages...for a while now, I've been living on the streets. For the past four years I've been in Diagon Alley.' Harry waited for Sirius to say something, but the man looked frozen in place, so he continued. 'I've been living in the attic of an abandoned building. Its alright.' Harry added as an after thought.

'Why didn't Alice take you in?' his words sounded so strained, his eyes desperate.

'You mean my Godmother? I only found out who she was today, same as you. Apparently Dumbledore left me with my muggle relatives when I was a baby, they took me to an orphanage. From then, I've been on my own.' Harry said this, in an manner of fact tone. Not letting on how lonely he had felt. Such honesty was very unheard of for him.

'Well that explains the clothes' Sirius noted.

'You're not much better' Harry mumbled, the words slipping out.

Sirius ignored the statement. 'Dumbledore did this.' It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded in response anyway. 'I'll kill him'

'You can't!' Harry all but screamed.

'He did this, Harry! He could have pushed for a trial for me! He could have done so much! He abandoned you, with those muggles. Your parents! James and Lily would kill me for what happened to you. I'm so sorry Harry, I'm so so sorry.' Sirius's anger all but fizzled out, his voice turned pleading, the agony as clear as the dirt on his handsome face.

'You can't. If you go back Azkaban. I'll be alone again. You can't.'

A single tear drop escaped Sirius's grey eyes, and drifted slowly down his cheek. 'Come here Harry', he extended one hand to the small boy. Harry walked forwards as if in a daze, placing his small dirty hand into his Godfather's larger dirtier ones. Sirius trapped his Godson's hand in his own, squeezing gently as if to make sure he was really there.

'I'll never leave you again, Harry. You'll live with me, we'll be a family. Just like your mum and dad wanted. I'll protect you, I'll take care of you, you won't want for anything.' Sirius swore, his oath hanging heavy in the air.

The boy and the man stared at each other, a small smile mirrored on their faces. A warm, feeling was building like a ball of fire inside Harry's chest, he felt ready to explode. He had a family. Someone wanted him, it was not a feeling he would soon forget.

A soft knock at the door, tore the two away from their silent happiness. 'Come in' Sirius spoke, his words full of authority. Sirius stood from his seated position and pulled Harry behind him, acting as a shield. The door opened smoothly, revealing to people. One was the Auror Robarbs and the other, a three foot tall little creature. It had eyes the size of saucers, long spindly arms and legs, and bat like ears that stuck out from the side of its head.

'Merry?' Harry heard Sirius question.

'Master Sirius!' The tiny creature sqweaked with excitement. Sensing no danger, Sirius allowed Harry to move from behind him.

'Harry, this is Merry, the Potter's house elf.' The house elf in question, bowed at the young boy, squeezing the package it held hard to its chest before standing straight again.

'Its an honour to see you again Master Harry', Merry beamed at the boy, which Harry returned in full.

'Its nice to meet you too, Merry.'

'That's the first polite thing, I've heard you say all day' The Head Auror Robarbs muttered, drawing everyones attention.

'Nate?' Sirius questioned, in almost awe.

'You're _still_ the only one who can get away with that'

Sirius swept forwards, drawing the Auror into a friendly hug. 'You kidding, you'd let James get away with murder'. Sirius pulled back smiling. 'Harry, this is Nathaniel Robarbs. He put me and your Dad through training.'

'I know. He rescued me from Fudge and Dumbledore'. Harry smirked at the shocked face of the Auror. Its not every day you get hugged by a former criminal.

'Look's like I have more to thank you for then ever.' Sirius said, clapping the man on the shoulder.

'Get this kid out of my hair, and we'll be even' Robarbs joked somewhat seriously.

'Deal. You ready Harry? He asked his Godson.

'Ready for what?'

'To go home.' Harry let those words wash over him. _Home. _

_'_Alright, Merry, can you take us in one trip?' Sirius addressed the little elf.

'Of course. To the Manor?' Merry all but clapped her hands in excitement. 'Wait. This is for you', she handed the package in her arms to the small boy. Harry eyed it warily, he had never been given anything in his entire life.

'Go on. Open it' Sirius urged.

Harry sat down on the suede sofa and tore into the brown paper. It was a cloak. The finest quality he had ever seen. He stroked it reverently before holding it up in front of him. It looked just his size. He stood up, took off his old black cloak and tossed it to the floor.

He pulled on the new cloak, jet black, with a golden trim around the edges. Over his heart lay a strange looking crest. He recognised it from the handle of the Gringotts meeting room. Two stags on their hind legs were placed on either side of a shield, untop of the shield lay an ornate knights helmet.

'Thats your families crest' Sirius said, while Harry traced the pattern with his fingers. 'That cloak was your Dad's.' He was surprisingly proud of that fact. It belonged to his Father, and it fit him. 'Alright, lets get going. Harry, I want you to hold onto Merry's hand and not let go'. The boy nodded, uncomfortably familiar with the form of travel he was referring to.

Harry and Sirius stood on either side of Merry, holding each of her hands. 'It was good to see you again Nate.' Those were the last words Harry heard before the awful feeling of being crushed from the inside out swept over him. They landed back to earth in a matter of seconds, this time however Harry didn't feel the need to throw up.

He opened his eyes, and saw that they were standing at the gates of a large Manor house. The gates proudly displayed the Potter family crest.

'Okay, Harry. You need to repeat after me'. Harry turned to face his Godfather, he looked extremely out of place; still in his prisoner uniform and standing on the steps of the most upper class house Harry had ever seen. 'You need to say. I, Harry James Potter, heir to the noble house of Potter, stake claim to the Potter Manor'

Harry repeated the sentence once in his head. 'I, Harry James Potter, heir to the noble house of Potter, stake claim to the Potter Manor.' A shot of light illuminated the wrought iron gates and swung open, allowing entry.

'Well done Harry.' Sirius smiled, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, pushing him forwards. The trio made there was up the gravelled pathway to the main house.

'How did you know what to do?' Harry asked his Godfather.

'Oh. I was there when your Dad did it. When you GrandFather died, James needed to stake his claim to the Manor. I was with him, as was Merry.' Sirius explained, his eyes locked on the building in front of them.

The Potter Manor, looked more like a small palace, then the counrty home Harry had first imagined. It looked like it had a thousand windows, the front door was easily 5 feet in width and was double the height of his Godfather. The stone was a light maroon colour, complimenting the white window borders perfectly. All Harry could think was, this is mine. This is my home.

'Come on Harry' Sirius urged. Standing with his hand on the golden door handle. The handle itself, looked to be made of pure gold, the Potter crest inlaid beautifully into its metal. Sirius didn't wait for a sign of approval, he pushed the door open. Harry and Merry followed him inside.

Harry's mouth was agape as he stepped into the large entrance hall. Portraits of previous Potters lined the walls, an expensive looking ruby red carpet ran the length of the hall, and Harry was nervous to step on it. He felt completely out of place. 'Merry, would you please make Harry and I some dinner. We'll take it in Harry's room.' Sirius ordered, the house elf smiled happily, bobbed her head and popped out of existence.

'My room?' Harry questioned, barely listening to his Godfather. He was too busy staring at the wizards and witches lining the walls. Many of the men had Harry's messy black hair. They where all smiling at him curiously.

'These are your relatives' Sirius gestured at the paintings, I'll introduce you tomorrow. 'Lets get you to your room.' He held out his hand for Harry to hold. He did so slowly, unsure of the bodily contact. He couldn't remember having ever held someones hand before.

Harry was barely paying attention to the direction Sirius was leading them in, he was too busy staring at the portraits on the walls, or the golden filigree on the ceiling. Everthing looked so clean and expensive. It was more then Harry could have ever have hoped for. He didn't believe he could have imagined a place more beautiful, in order to wish for it.

Sirius lead them up an enormous set of white marble stairs, to the second floor. The red ruby carpet looked to be a constant decoration throughout the Manor. It ran down the centre of every corridor, and even covered the white marble of the stairs.

They walked for a few more minutes, before Sirius came to an abrupt stop outside of a pair of white wood double doors. 'This is your room Harry, it was your Dad's. He told me that, it always belongs to the heir of Potter. The head of house has a room in the East Wing.' Sirius explained.

'Where will you sleep?' Harry asked, excited to finally be somewhere where he belonged.

'I have already have a room down the hall' Sirius said.

'Already?'

'I'll explain everything over dinner' He promised, waiting patiently for his Godson to make the first move. Smiling, wide eyed, Harry opened the doors, pushing them both open as he walked into the room. The late afternoon light shone through five windows lining the far wall. The walls themselves were a dark blue, and the carpet a fluffy cream colour. A large marble fireplace stood out proudly in the centre of the far right wall. Flanking the fireplace was two huge bookcases, filled to the brim. An enormous king size bed, was pushed against the left wall, close to the windows. But what really caught Harry's attention was the large oak wood desk in the left corner of the room.

Harry walked over to it, looking at it in closer inspection. Papers were strewn across the desk, they looked like maps. One was labelled Hogwarts, the others looked to be variations of the same thing. What really caught his eye, were the pictures. Candid pictures of his mother were strewn about, all looked like she hadn't known they were being taken. Harry gathered up the one of his Father hugging his mother in a sea of people. His dad was wearing Quidditch robes.

'Thats your mum and dad, after Gryffindor one the Qudditich cup in their 7th year.' Sirius smiled fondly at the scene. The smiling faces, danced happily in the picture. 'James was captain, had been ever since third year. He usually played seeker, but 7th year he was a chaser.'

'Was he really that good?' Harry asked, smiling at the happy faces of his parents.

'The best. We were on the team together, I was a beater. Your Dad was _pure_ talent.'

'I'm going to be just like him,' Harry smirked. This was it. This was everything he had ever dreamed of. He was going to be _brave_, he was going to be _fearless_, and he was going to be _strong_.


	8. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! DISCLAIMER!

It was a heart warming sight. Sirius and Harry sat crossed legged in the center of Harry's new bedroom. Nearly a hundred pictures were laid out in front of them, a long with a small dinner that had been readily devoured. Both boys sharing the same ravenous appetites.

Harry swept away a strand of black hair from his face, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening.

'You need a haircut.' Sirius observed, not trying to hide his amusement.

'Yeah, well, back at you' Harry huffed icily, grooming had never been one of his top priority's.

'Harry.' Sirius rebuffed, catching the young boys attention. Never in his life, had someone used that tone with him. 'It wasn't an insult', his Godfather continued, in a kinder voice. 'I just meant that tomorrow we should go to Diagon Alley, get haircuts, some new clothes. Does that sound okay?'

Harry was taken totally of guard, but looking down at himself he couldn't help but notice that Sirius was right. As the heir to a noble family, Harry should dress the part. The thought of splurging with some of his trust fund gave him an excitedly wicked feeling. 'Yeah, that sounds great', he smirked.

'Good, we'll head out tomorrow morning. Before it gets too busy.' Sirius paused slightly, watching his godson as the boy trifled through the pictures on the carpet. 'Perhaps, we could look for something for your birthday, its a week away.'

Harry's hand froze for a second before clutching a random square of paper in his hand. 'Oh, Yeah, sure.'

'Thats a good one' Sirius murmured, nodding his head at the picture his Godson held.

'I look like him' the boy whispered, staring intently at the picture of his father. James Potter, looked to be about a year older then Harry in this picture. He was dressed in his school robes, and proudly displaying his broomstick beside him.

'You do. You're the double. He loved you.'

'I know, its just not fair...' Harry trailed off, the silence becoming almost deafening.

In hopes to lighten the mood Sirius, attempted another avenue of conversation. 'You know, your dad's the reason I was a Gryffindor'.

'What do you mean? What's a Gryffindor?' Harry asked, when living on the streets, learning about a school you probably weren't going to attend wasn't really important.

Sirius was taken back by the question, but of course how _would _Harry had known. 'Erm, Hogwarts was founded by four wizards. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Huffelpuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. These founders, erm, created houses to split their students into. Each house was based on a specific trait that the founder admired above all others. So, Gryffindor liked the brave, Hufflepuff liked the loyal, Ravenclaw liked the smart, and Slytherin liked the cunning. '

'Whats that got to do with my dad?'

'Well, in my family, it's pretty much predestined that you end up in Slytherin. Where all the cunning, underhanded bastards go. My family was for lack of a better word, _evil_. I hated the lot of them.' A deep frown carved itself onto Sirius's face, only for it to be swept away moments later, like turning the page of a book. 'But when I met your dad on the Hogwarts Express, my world changed. _He _changed me. For the first time ever, I saw a way out of from under the shadow of my family. James painted such a an amazing picture of Gryffindor, that I knew that's where I belonged. Your Grandma, Emmeline Potter, used to say that he could charm the birds from the trees.'

A long moment stretched out between the two, after Sirius's explanation. They both looked down in silence at the various pictures littering the floor. 'Do you think I'll be a Gryffindor?' Harry asked, his eyes still focused on the picture of his dad, held firmly in his grasp.

'You're James Potters son, you couldn't be anything less' Sirius assured, beaming with pride at his Godson. Harry felt bolstered up by his Godfathers assumptions of him, never had anyone ever shown this kind of faith in him before; he liked it.

'It's getting late, Harry. Got to be up early tomorrow, try and get some sleep.' Harry had to fight hard to keep his face neutral. His natural instinct had been to raise an eyebrow defiantly at his Godfather. It was only due to the fact that Sirius's suggestion hadn't sounded like an order that he managed to bite back his smart reply.

'Sure thing, Old Man' Harry smirked, gathering up the many pictures around him. A raucous barking laugh rumbled from the man opposite him, his eyes gleaming with a faint foreign lightness.

* * *

Harry had never felt so comfortable in his entire life, he felt like he was floating on clouds. He had never felt so rested, there was no way this was the same lumpy mattress he'd been sleeping on for the past few years.

Then it hit him. This wasn't his bed. Harry shot up and whipped around to a kneeling position on the mattress, staring wildly for any sign of danger. His eyes landed on the paper strewn desk in the corner and everything just came tumbling back. He was Harry Potter.

The tension in the boys body fell out of him like a lead weight in the ocean. His body sagged, and he let his head drop to his chest, his hair falling across his face like a curtain. Breathing heavily he let his realization flash through his mind, overwhelming everything in its power. He was Harry-freaking-James Potter, the heir to an immense fortune, he had a Godfather, he had a home.

A rush of excitement settled in the boys body, he jumped out of bed and raced over to his closest window, tearing open the curtains and taking in the sight. In the morning light the Potter estate looked breath taking, a lush expanse of wide fields and dense forest, it was like nothing Harry had ever seen, and it all belonged to _him._

A quiet knock and a slight cough had Harry spinning around to face his intruder. There stood his Godfather Sirius, he was standing in finely tailored wizards robes, his hair tied back from his face, and his facial hair freshly shaved.

Sirius was the first to break the quiet. 'I thought you'd be awake, if you get ready quickly Merry will have time to make you some breakfast before we head out', the man said, referring to their trip to Diagon Alley.

Harry found himself nodding, 'Er yeah, I'll be right down'.

'The bathroom is just through that door', Sirius pointed to a simple white wooden door on the opposite side of the room. 'The other door is into your wardrobe, whatever is in there is probably too big for you, but just pick whatever you like and call for Merry, she'll transfigure it to fit', his Godfather smiled comfortingly at him. 'Oh, and before I forget, If you find anything labeled _Marauders, _fair warning, don't touch it.'

Harry watched, mystified, as the man closed his door chuckling to himself. 'Marauders?' Harry questioned out loud, what the hell? The boy shrugged off the warning, choosing to contemplate when and if he came across such an object.

He walked over to the white wooden door and strode into the bathroom, what he saw made him stop short. Everything was either white or a cream colored marble. The toilet was immediately to his left, the sink was just down from that, with a mirror that took up almost the entire wall. An enormous bath ate up much of the right hand corner of the room, taps of gleaming gold neatly perching on its edge. But Harry gravitated towards the large walk in shower, he had never been that fond of bathing.

Harry quickly scrubbed away all the grime and dirt coating his skin, using a minty smelling soap to wash his hair, it made his scalp tingle. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a large fluffy white towel to wrap around his midsection. He caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and smirked at his appearance, his green eyes gleaming.

The boy dried off, and walked into his wardrobe and pulled out a simple looking shirt and trousers with a matching black cloak. Harry glanced around his room once before hesitantly calling out Merry's name.

Half a second later the Potter House elf popped into existence at the foot of Harry's king sized bed, where his fathers clothes were set out neatly. 'Master Harry has chosen some clothes?' Merry asked needlessly, glancing briefly at his towel clad form.

Harry simply nodded, watching as the house elf placed a long bony finger on the clothes, and watched as they steadily shrunk to fit at ten year old, rather than a grown man. 'Thank you Merry'

'Master is welcome, breakfast is ready. Merry can take Master Harry to his Godfather, once Master Harry is dressed' Merry suggested happily whilst handing the newly shrunken clothes to Harry.

Harry hurriedly changed into his clothes and allowed Merry to lead him to Sirius, who was seated comfortably at a breakfast counter in the kitchen. As with everything Harry had seen so far in his new home, the kitchen was no different. Everything looked extremely expensive and top of the line quality.

'Hello Harry' Sirius greeted, setting down the daily prophet, that he had previously been reading. Harry happily sat down in the chair next to his Godfather, a steaming plate of bacon and eggs calling his name.

'Hey Sirius' he replied off handily, already digging into his breakfast with gusto. Harry heard his Godfather mumble something about being his fathers son before the older man picked back up his paper.

It was only once Harry had pushed away his plate, his stomach bloated, that he really acknowledged his Godfather's presence. He glanced at Sirius, then at the paper he was reading, the front page held a big picture of his Godfather sitting in the center of a court room. The title read 'Black FREED', he tried to sneakily read some of the article but he was having trouble with a few of the words.

'What do you think?' Sirius asked suddenly, making Harry jump. The boy hadn't noticed his Godfather watching him scan the paper.

'Um, its good' Harry offered noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders and pushing his plate further away. 'I didn't really read it'.

'Oh, well, here you go'-Sirius handed the Daily prophet to his Godson-'we still have some time'. Sirius picked up his mug of coffee and took a long swig.

Harry held the paper in his hands like it was a wild animal waiting to pounce. His heart was beating like crazy, shame rose up his throat like bile, and his cheeks flamed red. 'I can't', he whispered.

'Sure you can, we have little time', Sirius replied, not looking at the boy.

Harry gulped and turned to face his Godfather, the Daily Prophet still held at arms length. 'I can't', he repeated again, hanging his head, his eyes downcast.

Sirius looked at his Godson, extremely confused, what did he mean he couldn't? Then it suddenly dawned on him, and fresh wave of guilt washed over Sirius like tidal wave. It took him a moment to reply. 'Harry, can you read?'

'A little' Harry replied in a small voice, his face still down turned.

'Well we'll have to fix that, won't we?' Sirius said, laying a calming hand on the young boys shoulder. Trying desperately not to show how deeply his emotions where effecting him, it would only embarrass the boy further. 'How are you with numbers?'

'About the same' Harry supplied, lifting his head slightly, and allowing his hair to fall away from his face. 'Will you teach me?' He had never been that interested in learning, because he'd never been that interested in his future.

'Of course, you'll learn reading, writing, numbers, anything you want. I'll even teach you to fly'.

Harry's eyes lit up at the last statement, it was like the sun had risen in his eyes. He had always wanted to learn, and ever since he had received his mothers letter, mentioning his training broom, the want had only grown. 'You'll teach me to fly?'

'We'll have to get you a broom first, but yeah, I'll teach you. Your dad would murder me if I didn't' Sirius smirked, glad to have changed the somber conversation, glad to see happiness on his Godson's face. 'Well we have our work cut out for us today, Diagon Alley awaits'.

* * *

It was 10am when Sirius and Harry had walked through an empty Leaky Cauldron, and through to the entrance of Diagon Alley. The pubs owner had nearly fainted at the sight of Sirius, Harry smiled at the memory. The two where currently walking down the cobbled street, the place starting to fitter with early morning customers.

'Alright, first to Beardsley's Barber Shop, and then to Madam Malkin's for some new clothes. Then we can just wonder'

'I know, I'm new to this being rich thing. But don't we actually need to have the money in order to pay for things?' Harry questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

'Got it covered Potter' Sirius grinned, leading the two to a little shop not far down the street. A huge pair of scissors hung outside the door, and a small sign hung from them, declaring the shop to be Beardsley's Barber Shop. Sirius pushed Harry inside, the soft tinkling of a little bell alerting the owner to there entrance.

An elderly man appeared out of the back door, wrapping a white apron around his waist. 'Welcome..' The man stopped short, his mouth gaping like an angry goldfish.

'Hullo Beardsley' Sirius greeted, hoping to ease the man's suffering, but it didn't really seem to help.

'Sirius, I-I-I, er, I heard you were free' the man stuttered, his face very pale.

'Yes, well Ministry finally did something right', Sirius said, making the old man chuckle nervously.

'What can I help you with?'

'I need a haircut, as does my Godson' Sirius clapped his hand down on Harry's shoulder.

Harry took this as his Que, 'Harry Potter sir, nice to meet you' he held his hand out for the man to shake. It took Beardsley two seconds to register what was happening before clutching at the boys hand and shaking rigorously.

'Merlin, Harry Potter, in my shop. Its an honor' the old mans face lit up, like christmas had come early. Harry grinned at the recognition, never again would he see that look of disgust all too familiar to him. He was the boy who lived, know one would ever look at him like that again.

It was half an hour later when Sirius and Harry stepped out of the Barber shop, both sporting new haircuts. Sirius's hair had been trimmed to his shoulders, claiming that he couldn't bear to part with all of it. While Harry had chosen to cut his hair short, no longer worrying about people noticing his scar. Why should he hide a symbol of what his parents had died for?

Harry ran his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair, loving how light his head now felt. 'You look so like your dad when you do that' Sirius smiled down at him, a shadow of grief in his eyes flickered momentarily before quickly dissolving into happiness. 'Come on, Madam Malkin's awaits.'

An hour later, Harry was still standing on a stool in Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions. Sirius had been sorted rather quickly, but Harry had been poked prodded and nipped from every angle since standing on the stool, his Godfather simply sitting in a comfortable chair watching the commotion.

Madam Malkin had enlisted two helpers to sort his clothes, a 30 something which called Hilda, and a 50 something witch called Martha. Although Sirius was constantly _distracting_ Hilda, which led to a lot of accidental wand jabs that Harry didn't find particularly helpful.


End file.
